My poops were prodigious, my hiccups sonorous, my sleeps seldom and the rest you can just imagine. There were times I was commanded to write, the results are here.

When I wasn’t singing (either with Breakfast Crew or by myself) or daydreaming, I was actively un-imagining the freeways, phone poles, silos and roadways, trying to picture the terrain, right down to the flora and fauna (so much of it flattened alongside the road under me) as it was before “discovery”.
Our country and Europe’s culture and technology robbed the first dwellers of their homes, their lives and their culture.
Later, scholars and artists have attempted to give them their posthumous due….There are so many tribes, but the California coastal Esselen were the latest on my mind…

Will we ever wise up and copy the stewardship, reverence and light livin’ of those innocent earthlings? Will we ever learn? Will we take our head out of cyberspace and give it a nice ride around the block, around the town, around the county of those people?
Why oh why oh did God not give them bicycles to combat the Spanish?

i just learned that Susan (Fat Cyclist’s beloved wife) did not survive the summer and…I can only think of him, and their kids…my frivol was a delight, and all my near and dear ones who signed affadavits that promised not to a) purchase rural real estate or b) kick any metal containers with handles, or bite anything bigger than a filbert…well, they honored that contract, while others were unable to. And on my street, Maria’s newborn didn’t make it past day 3…so I am aware that as always, it is a cruel unpredictable world, it’s not ‘fair’…and the odds are sometimes not in one’s favor…
I am not going to draw a conclusion.
I’m full of Tecate and some sort of Belgian beer, thanks to Gestalt Broory and Brathaus…and I can’t really think perfectly straight.
Here is a little prayer to Eldon Nelson’s family, and Maria and her husband, and Kay Ryan, Marie Dern and those left with an empty bed…